Driving a golf cart at age ten was a privilege. Golfing at age ten was out of the question, according to our old man.

Our father wasn’t always right, but when it came to golf, I’ll give him a clap. Most of his spawn shouldn’t have been on the greens. He only allowed us to drive the cart which was equally dangerous…for others.

After golfing, if he had a good round, he’d buy us an orange soda, which for some odd reason, he’d call it a big red orange. He’d also purchase lunch for us, and for himself, he’d have a beer.

Never spending much time with our father with his work schedule, anytime with him was precious.